


A Beautiful Speciman

by crochetaway



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25149751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: Hermione finds herself back in the 1940s, trying to cope with not being able to change a thing, she flees England.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Abraxas Malfoy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 92
Collections: Christmas in July 2020





	A Beautiful Speciman

**Author's Note:**

> **Thanks to Fae Orabel for beta'ing this piece for me! And for helping me fix Abraxas in the artwork. It looks solo much better than what I had originally!**
> 
> **Japanese translations curtesy of Google Translates (they are probably wrong and I’m happy to fix them if someone more knowledgable than me can clue me in).**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**
> 
> **Pairing: Abraxas Malfoy/Hermione Granger  
>  Location: Osaka, Japan  
> Summer Word Prompt: Zoo**

* * *

_July 1946_

Hermione Granger smiled in satisfaction as Sharpeye, a Hippogriff, took off and soared around the paddock. She nodded to herself as a small, congratulatory job well done. It had taken over a month and a half, but the mended wing was finally able to hold the animal’s weight as he sailed through the wind currents above Osaka. There was always a cool breeze from the bay running through the city, and especially through the _Ōsaka Majikaru Dōbu~Tsuen,_ which sat in the mountains directly to the west of the city.

She had always intended to work on behalf of magical creatures and beings, but being a literal zookeeper hadn’t been part of her plan. Her plan had blown up entirely when a mishap with a Time-Turner sent her reeling back fifty-odd years into 1943. Not knowing what else to do, she found herself back at Hogwarts. It had always been her safe place and, not knowing anybody else, she felt it was her only option. She had hoped she would only be back in the past for a year while she figured out what exactly happened to the Time-Turner and get herself moving forward again.

However, she quickly found that she was quite stuck in the past. It was 1946 now, she’d completed her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and had done the unthinkable. Several unthinkable things, actually. The first being that she was sorted into Slytherin. The Sorting Hat had taken the smallest look in her brain and shouted Slytherin before she’d even been able to argue with it. That was the first mistake, and Hermione was still trying to figure out what exactly the hat had seen to put her in the house of snakes.

The second had been falling in love. That had certainly not been part of her plan in the future, or now in the past. That mistake was the reason she was in Japan at all. Hermione Granger, consummate Gryffindor—in her past life, at least—had run away from wizarding Britain and everyone she had known over the last few years. She had made friends, despite being sorted into Slytherin. Good ones, too. Maybe not Harry and Ron worthy, but still, friends she could have counted on if she hadn’t decided that running was the better option.

And really, what else was she supposed to do? She was from the future, she needed to not influence events. She could ruin lives if she stayed in Britain. She _would_ ruin lives if she stayed in Britain.

“He’s a beautiful specimen,” a cultured British voice said from right behind her, shaking her out of her reverie.

Hermione closed her eyes, letting loose a long breath. She knew to whom that voice belonged. She hadn’t thought he would find her.

“Abraxas,” she breathed as she turned around to face the love of her life.

“Hermione,” he replied, his voice just as breathless as hers.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, knowing the answer, but asking the question anyway.

“Did you think you could hide from me?” His eyes narrowed at her, stepping closer.

He was so damned pretty. Hermione didn’t like to think she was that shallow, but she thought his looks were half the reason she’d fallen in love to begin with. He had long, white-blonde hair, but unlike his son’s stick-straight locks, Abraxas’ were wavy bordering on curly. His ice-blue eyes should have been cold, but she could only ever see warmth in them when they looked at her. He had a square jaw with a dimple in his chin that she found unbearably sexy. And, if that weren’t enough, he was tall. Hermione wasn’t short herself, but Abraxas towered a full head over her.

“I already told you that we can’t be together,” Hermione replied, her voice barely a whisper. Sharpeye seemingly sensing her emotions let out a loud caw above them and circled lower.

“But you refused to tell me why,” he hissed, shooting an arm out and wrapping it around her waist, dragging her to him.

 _Because I don’t give birth to your only child._ Hermione longed to tell him, but she couldn’t. She shook her head instead. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t.”

“That’s a load of bollocks, and you and I both know it,” he said, dropping his head to nuzzle against her cheek. “ _Salazar,_ I’ve missed you.”

Hermione’s hands crept up to push him away, but instead found themselves clutching at the lapels of his robes. She had missed him, too. Of course, she had. She cried herself to sleep more nights than not, missing him.

“And your lord?” she asked, knowing it would spark an argument. As good as it felt being in his arms, there were still massive differences between them. One being that she would never kneel to Tom Riddle, regardless of what Abraxas thought about him.

Abraxas sighed heavily, dropping his head further into the crook of her neck. “I’ve asked for a few personal days while we were in the area,” he admitted.

Hermione did try to pull away then. “He knows I’m here?”

“No!” Abraxas insisted, holding her tightly. “No, of course not. I would _never_ risk your safety that way.”

“He’s not stupid, Abraxas,” Hermione said. “If you asked for a few days, he’ll either have you tracked or surmise that I must be in the region. He won’t stop. You know he won’t.”

“Then you should kneel,” Abraxas pleaded. “You don’t have to be Marked, but you should at least kneel.”

“Never,” Hermione snapped. “Don’t even _think_ of asking me that again. You may be fine living under a master, but not I.”

He nodded, pulling her close again. “Fine. I will not ask again. Please, can we just have the day?”

Hermione knew she should say no. She knew that if Tom Riddle was in the area, he would come after her. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all, and she had a sinking feeling that she would be dodging Tom for the next fifty years. Until a younger version of herself helped Harry Potter defeat him once for all.

“Alright,” she agreed, going against every instinct she had. “We can have the day.”

Finally, Abraxas pressed his lips to hers. Hermione returned the kiss to the sound of the Hippogriff landing behind her. She only knew part of what the future held, but it was the worst parts. For today, she would indulge Abraxas. And who knew, maybe this wouldn’t be the last time she saw him for a very long time, but a sinking feeling in her chest made her think it might be.

* * *

_July 1983_

It had only been a year since Hermione stood in front of this paddock at the _Ōsaka Majikaru Dōbu~Tsuen_ , but when she was here her mind dwelled on the first summer she had spent in Osaka. Sharpeye was long gone, of course, but one of his descendants was currently grazing through the paddock.

“ _Anata wa hippogurifu ga sukidesu ka_?” an older gentleman asked as he leaned on the railing next to Hermione.

Her Japanese was shaky, but she managed a little. “ _Hai. Eigo o hanasemasu ka?_ ”

He grinned at her. “Not too rusty, that was passable at least.”

Hermione thanked him. “I used to work here, a long time ago. Hippogriffs were my specialty.”

“Can’t have been too long,” he replied, “you look young enough yet, unlike…” he gestured at himself with a self-deprecating twinkle in his eye. Hermione laughed politely. The old man tipped his cap at her and moved on to the next paddock over.

Hermione wasn’t even sure why she was still coming. Thirty-seven years was a long time, and in all that time Abraxas hadn’t shown up. She knew he was still alive, she followed the news out of wizarding Britain, although she hadn’t stepped foot on her home country’s shores in just as long. She wasn’t wrong; Tom Riddle had pursued her for years. And for years, Hermione had kept just a step or two ahead of him. That was until he went back to Britain for good to begin the first wizarding war. Hermione had to stop taking the news then. The temptation to go back and fix everything. To give Harry the parents he so desperately needed and deserved was too much.

“He’s a beautiful specimen,” a cultured British voice said from behind her.

This time Hermione gasped as she whirled around to find Abraxas Malfoy staring at her. He was older, but then so was she. He was still beautiful. Still had the same strong features she fell in love with, just a few more wrinkles than before.

“Abraxas.”

“Hermione.”

She didn’t know what to say. What changed? Why was this the year he decided to come? She had so many questions and wasn’t sure she wanted to know any of the answers.

“Ethel died last year,” Abraxas said, answering half of her questions in just four words. Abraxas had married Ethel Burke six weeks after leaving Hermione in Osaka the first time.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Hermione said. She may have disliked Ethel Burke from the first moment she met her back in 1943, but she was still the woman with whom Abraxas had spent most of his life. She was the mother of his only child. She was the woman Hermione could never be and didn’t that just burn bitter in the back of her throat? She swallowed around the lump and turned back to face the enclosure. Coming here had been a mistake. Every year she came to wait for him and now that he was finally here, all she could think was that this was all a mistake.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice closer, directly behind her now. “Don’t ever be sorry. _I_ am the one who should be sorry. _Merlin_ , I should have listened to you about Tom. I should have—”

Hermione turned around and cut him off. “Don’t. Don’t talk about Tom, don’t… Why are you here? After all of these years. Why now? Because Ethel’s gone? You’re looking for someone else to warm your bed?” Even as she said it, she knew the words would cut him deep. He and Ethel had been engaged from childhood. He’d had as little choice in marrying her as Hermione had in staying in the past. She was _still_ in the past, as hard as that was to accept after all of these years.

“Tom is gone, too,” Abraxas reminded her. “It was not just about Ethel, it was mostly about Tom. I didn’t want him to know. I didn’t want him to find you. It was always to protect you,” he insisted.

Hermione scoffed and made to turn around again, but he stopped her with a hand to her waist. An echo from almost forty years ago.

“He’s been gone for two years,” Hermione replied. “So it was a little bit about Ethel. Just as it always was. I’ve always been the other woman,” she added ruefully.

“Not anymore,” Abraxas said. “My parents are dead. I am the head of the Malfoy family now. My wife is dead. Tom is dead. I am a free man for the first time in my life. I am finally free for you, Hermione.”

“It’s been a long time. Why do you assume I’m free?” It was a silly gambit, considering, but she wanted to hear what he had to say about it.

“You’re here, are you not? I stayed with Ethel all of those years because of Tom, you know he was never going to let you go. Who do you think convinced him to go back to Britain? I knew if he was worried about British politics, he would turn his attention away from finding you.”

She had to admit that it was almost sweet. “And the war? Did you convince him a war would be a good idea?”

“Of course not,” he spat. “I tried to talk him out of the bloody war. We were going to turn the tides in the political arena, we were so bloody close, but he was impatient and then that damned prophecy.”

“Prophecy?” Hermione asked as if she didn’t know it forwards and backward. As if that same prophecy didn’t rule her life. Her past life. Her future life. All her lives it seemed were going to be affected by that damned prophecy.

“A silly thing about someone besting the Dark Lord,” Abraxas said. “It was true, Merlin; I did not think it would be, but then it was. The Potter boy killed the Dark Lord.”

 _Not for long,_ Hermione’s mind supplied for her, but it would be over a decade before Voldemort came back in any real way. The fantasy sprung out, over a decade she could have Abraxas all to herself. And maybe, just maybe, she could save him from his untimely death in 1996. She could try; that at least could be one thing she would try to change.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked, reaching a hand to tuck a curl behind her ear. “For everything? For the abominable way our lives turned out? I should have forgone Tom, forgone Ethel, and run away with you. We could have been happy.”

Hermione swallowed around a lump in her throat as her eyes stung with unshed tears. They could have been happy, they would have been happy, but at what cost? What would have changed if she had tried harder to get him to stay with her? She shook her head, it was folly to go down the path of ‘what ifs’.

“I won’t go back to Britain,” Hermione said. “I lived in Japan for a few years, but more recently, I’ve been living in New Zealand. You’re free to visit if you wish,” she added stiffly.

“And if I wish to move to New Zealand?” Abraxas replied.

“My house is large enough to accommodate a second person.” It wasn’t an explicit invite, but Abraxas was a Slytherin; he understood.

“I’ll take whatever forgiveness I can get,” he murmured into her hair, drawing her close once more. Hermione wanted to hold herself stiff, but being in his arms again after all this time was too much temptation to bear. She melted into him, wrapping her own arms around his waist as she buried her face into his chest. _Circe,_ he even smelled the same. All her memories from the few short years they had together came rushing forward. The sneaking around the castle, the hiding from Tom, all the good times they had. She shoved away any memory tinged in anger or sadness. It had taken her a long time to accept her new life, and she wasn’t going to ruin whatever happiness she was going to get with Abraxas over hurts that were forty years old.


End file.
